Caught
by CherriBerri
Summary: He killed ten girls in a single month. And, he was at it again. Implied Hitsu/Hina. Detective AU.
1. For the Clouds to Break

**A/N:** This is Alternate Universe, you didn't catch it the first time.

_**Punctuation is used for stylistic matters and expression of emotions. **_

* * *

**caught  
**_a bleach fanfiction by **Cherry**_

Original story/character by _Tite Kubo_

**"For the Clouds to Break"  
**_chapter one_

* * *

And so they find her, feathers stained in brilliant red, dripping love into the mussing of bed sheets. The police sirens have finally quieted outside, but the murmur of voices inside is just as loud, just as piercing. They slice through the air, razor-sharp, razor-clean, like the cuts running down her sleek shoulder blades.

Sticky cherryjuice slithers down the cuts, shining glass marbles that melt on contact.

He can only stare in horror.

They clipped her wings–whoever _they_ were–and pinned them high above her head with a sterling gold tack the size of a desert plate. The M.O fits–

"–perfectly. Young girl, virgin, suffocated and then trisected along the collarbones and down the spine. No signs of harm or injury otherwise. And finally, pinned up through the hands with a large, golden tack." Hisagi Shuuhei finishes off his report, lifting his eyes from the small notepad in his hands.

"That's the fourth one this month, and it's only the twelfth. Kinda makes you wonder what a crazy-psychopath mindset this guy's got. I mean, _really_, he doesn't even rape them! Just kills 'em and then tacks 'em up to the wall." Hisagi glares at Abarai Renji, looking pointedly at the young detective standing feet from them, frozen in time; carved from stone. Abarai clamps his lips shut and bites them, looking embarrassed. Hisagi shakes his head; _insensitive git._

"Hitsugaya?" Matsumoto appears by his side, a hand resting gently on his shoulder, pressing life back into his veins. He winces but snaps to reality. His eyes refuse to meet the body on the wall again.

"I'm fine." He shrugs her off and turns his back on the crime-scene. He tastes bile on his tongue and wonders how long he can hold off before the voices and memories catch up to him. _Not long, not long now_. He can already feel them nipping at his heels.

Hitsugaya shakes them off, heart racing, trying to outrun the onslaught of sounds and images, wave after wave, threatening to crash down any moment now. He shoves his fingers through his hair, nails scrapping against his skull. The momentary pain clears his mind.

"Abarai, have the body taken to Forensics. Tell them to report to me immediately if they find anything else." Abarai nods and heads off. Hisagi watches his partner's retreating form for a moment before turning back to the detective before him.

"Detective, you know I'll tell the boss if you want to take a–"

"No. Thanks. Just log the crime scene and see if you can't find anymore clues as to the identity of the killer. Matsumoto, we're going to go find the... the _victim's_," he swallows thickly, clenching his fists, "family."

"Yes, but–." Her words fall on deaf ears. He is already gone. Matsumoto glances over at the body hanging limply from the wall and sighs. Hisagi catches her eye, a meaningful moment passes between seconds, and then she's gone too. Hisagi lets out a long breath he doesn't remember holding in, claps his hand and sets to work.

"Anyone got the ID from her mailing addres–" Hisagi cuts off the nameless officer.

"No need. We've already got an ID: Momo Hinamori."

* * *

**A/N: **I know it's short. The next chapter will be longer. **_Review?_** :]


	2. If I Could Erase Yesterday

**A/N:** Probably my last update until after Saturday. SAT's. Ugh

* * *

**caught  
**_a bleach fanfiction by **Cherry**_

Original Story/Characters by _Tite Kubo_

**"If Only I Could Erase Yesterday"  
**_chapter two_

* * *

"Detective Hitsugaya, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to handle this case. _I know_–" Captain Ukitake holds up a hand, "That you're more than capable, you've proved yourself many times in the past. _However,_" he fixes Hitsugaya with a pointed stare, "the emotional complications would render you _incompetent_."

Hitsugaya's eyes widen at the final word. _Incompetent? How _dare_ he even_–

"Just give it to him, Juushirou."

The entire room turns to look at the doorway. A man with a high nose and a cigarette sticking out the edge of his mouth stands there, lighter in hand. Everyone watches as he flicks the lighter to life and sets the cigarette aflame. The tip glows bright orange, smoke twisting through the air. The moment passes; he shoves the lighter back into his blazer pocket.

"Shunsui! But–" The Agent in Charge waves off the complaint and situates himself on the side-sofa next to the door, kicking up his feet on the coffee table. Smoke from his cigarette swirls up as he breathes in, and blows out. A waft of burnt sand bellows across the room. Hitsugaya coughs and clears his throat, the smell grating against his lungs. Matsumoto stands behind him, a hand raised in customary salute.

"Relax, Agent," The Agent in Charge turns back to the Captain, raising an eyebrow. The Captain opened his mouth, about to argue when something in Kyouraku's hand catches the light and glints toward the ceiling. The Captain's shoulders go tense, a large, incredulous smile spreading across his face.

"You've been promoted!"

The tension that had filled the room to the brim only seconds before drains out in an instant as it explodes with shouts of joy. Matsumoto whoops, Captain Ukitake stumbles over to his old friend, catching him in a tight one-armed hug, even Hitsugaya grins.

"Twice. So it's _Director_ Kyouraku now."

"That's amazing, Shunsui! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Well, all the forms and whatnot kept me busy for a while, but I promised to come here first thing, so here I am." He sits back down; this time, the Captain joins him on the sofa.

"Well, as a celebratory gift, how about we all go out tonight, dinner's on me. _And..._" Kyouraku looks from The Captain to Hitsugaya. Ukitake sighs and nods. Hitsugaya's face brightens just enough, and he bows very low.

"Thank you, Captain. Thank you, Director." He is breathless as he rushes from the room. Matsumoto lingers behind, smile fading. She catches The Director's eyes and grins weakly.

"Congratulations, Director Kyouraku." She bows. Kyouraku winks, but his expression takes a turn for the serious as he jerks his head towards the door. He blows out another ring of smoke.

"Take care of him, Ran. Yeah?"

* * *

He flicks through file after file, page after page, picture after picture, name after name.

First victim, Orihime Inoue. Age, 23. Occupation, Medical Student at Columbia University. Marital Status, dating Uryuu Ishida (Fashion Major at NYU). Found in the presidential suit of the local Hilton Hotel.

Second victim, Hisana Kuchiki. Age, 25. Occupation, Professional Wedding Boutique Shop Owner. Marital Status, engaged to Byakuya Kuchiki (Yale Law student). _Killed the day before her marriage ceremony._ Found in the expensive loft above her shop.

Third victim, Tia Harribel. Age, 19. Occupation, Art History Major at Cornell University. Marital Status, single. Found in the dining hall of her father's mansion.

And the list goes on...

Yachiru Kusajishi. Age, 16; _the youngest victim_. Found in a suite in the Four Seasons. Hiyori Sarugaki. Age, 18. Found in a loft above Prada on 5th. Chizuru Honshou. Age, 17. _The only lesbian of the whole lot_. Found on the stage of Carnegie Hall. Isane Kotetsu. Age, 24. Found in the guest bedroom of her grandmother's wealthy, uptown home. Kiyone Kotetsu. Age, 20. Found in the exact same place. _Their grandmother died of a heart attack on the spot after that_. Nemu Kurotsuchi. Age, 21. Found in the Cornell Science Department Laboratories, where her father works as a Professor. _It turns out her father _wasn't_ the killer after all_. Tatsuki Arisawa. Age, 23. Found in the entrance hall of the private doujo she teaches at.

Ten murders, _ten_. All in one month.

_Tactless_. That's what he called himself. _Tactless_. A pun, Hitsugaya supposes, on the fact that he always uses a golden tack to pin his victims up. Tactless works in intervals of three days between each murder, and three months between sprees. Those ten girls had all been murdered exactly three months ago, and now, it's all starting again. Three more girls have already been killed.

_Four_, Hitsugaya corrects himself dryly, flicking open the newest stack of files. One more file will be added to this stack today.

The first was Lisa Yadoumaru. Age, 21. _The ex-FBI agent. Director Kyouraku didn't show up for a week after the incident._ Found in her private home two blocks from Wall Street.

The second, Sui-Feng, _Soifon, her fans had called her_. Age, 19. _The up-and-rising track star, headed for the Olympics_. Found in Icahn Stadium. _Her personal trainer, Yoruichi Shihouin almost killed one of the officers holding her in for questioning. She was let-go eventually when they confirmed the murderer to be Tactless. _

Then the most recent murder preceding, Nelliel Tu Odelshwanck. Age, 19. _The Victoria's Secret Model from Germany_. Found in the main hall of the runway show she was scheduled for that weekend.

And now... Hitsugaya kneads his eyes with his knuckles and tries not to think about the girl, pinned up in the hotel suite, her black hair like ink running off a canvas against the pale, Victorian-styled wallpaper. _What the hell was she doing there? _

Momo never liked expensive hotels or fancy restaurants. No, she preferred the night in with a good cup of tea and an old movie, probably starring Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe. _What was she doing there...?_

Maybe she was called–no\lured–no\kidnapped\_there were no signs of brute force on the body_. But she was **suffocated**. Why didn't she screamyellcall for help–call _him?_ He would have been there, he would have, ofcourseofcourse. He would have... _what would he have done_?

He would have called authorities\called for help\kicked his ass\protected her\protectprotectprotected\he was useless\useless\useless. **He didn't protect her**.

_He would have _killed_ whichever bastard dared touch a hair on her body. _Tactless is a dead man, that's right, dead_dead__**dead**_**. **BANG.

"Hitsugaya?" He jumps; the coffee in his hand nearly tips over. Matsumoto sits down in her usual seat, right angled with his desk so that they can see each other at all times. She crosses her hands over the files spread haphazardly over the cherrywood. Hitsugaya sets down the coffee. She glances at it. It's untouched and cold.

She leans in. He leans back.

_Avoidance._

"Has Forensics got an official report in yet?" He speaks first. She is only just opening her mouth–closes it, and purses her lips. She nods carefully, finally forging eye contact. Ice-gray skies over tumultuous green oceans. A storm is brewing; they can both hear the thunder. Only a matter of time before the lightning starts flashing.

"Well?" He raises a eyebrow, a perfect arch over the windows to his soul. They're closed, but _never for long_ when she's around. She forces them open, like Momo before her. _Because that's what partners do, they unlock you._ Pain pours out, in waves;tidal-waves;tsunamis;hurricanes;tornados;volcanoes.

...

Thunder rolls in, skies cloud over in dark blue; lightening flashes, waves from wind crash against reefs and rocks. It starts to rain.

"It wasn't your fault." Rain turns to snow.

_Yes it was, yesitwas, it was all my fault, my fault,myfault, .__**fault.**_

I'm useless.

"And even if she did call you, you would have never made it in time." Snow to hail.

_I would have found a way to help her, protect her. I would have, would have... _

Useless.

"Please... don't _do_ this to yourself."

Hitsugaya looks away.

The storms ceases in an instant, the waves stop, the clouds disperse, the rain thins until only a light mist remains.

Matsumoto knows she lost, and sighs.

_Useless._

"The forensics report came back clean... except for mild traces of d-tubocurarine in her bloodstream." She keeps her gaze marked on his face. Matsumoto wasn't trained in deception for nothing. He tenses and turns rigidly back towards her. She sees through his skull; his brain zooms into overdrive.

"Curare..., d-tubocurarine is in Curare...he drugged her." Matsumoto nods and pushes the file across the table to him. He looks down at it, eyes glazing over the words, not understanding them. He shakes his head to clear it of the remaining storm clouds and tries again. _Traces of d-tubocurarine... puncture wound found on right forearm... injected... prescription... _

She'd struggled.

Matsumoto watches as he comes to the same conclusion she'd come to minutes ago.

"She put up a fight."

"He broke his M.O."

They look at each other.

"She could have tried to call for help."

"Something must have gone wrong for him."

useless_fault_useless_fault_useless_fault_**protectprotectprotect.**

Hisagi and Abarai rush in, a plastic bag clutched tightly in Hisagi's hands.

In the bag: a cellphone.

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Hate it? Leave a **_Review_ :]**


	3. Colours that Haven't Faded

**A/N**: SAT's are OVER. YAY.

* * *

**caught  
**_a fanfiction by **Cherry**_

Original story/characters by _Tite Kubo_

**"Colours that Haven't Faded"  
**_chapter three _

* * *

Gin Ichimaru leans back into his leather armchair, head lolling over the cussions. Fingers find the remote control and click, cool jazz permeates the air, softening it. He reaches for his tie, tugging the chokehold from around his neck.

Work like his is time-consuming–at the least–to downright hazardous to the health–and that's not even at most. Not to mention having a relationship with an FBI agent to juggle on the side, but who says he can't multitask? Ichimaru grins at the thought of his girlfriend–soontobe_wife_–of three years. _But she doesn't need to know that yet._ MostAll men would _kill_ to get a kitten like her under their belts; _boy_ did she mewl when he rubbed her the right way.

His phone goes off, inching along the tabletop. He cracks open an eye and immediately grabs it. Rangiku Matsumoto is smiling at him from the screen. His grin only grows wider as he presses the little green button that would allow him to drown in her voice.

And drown he does.

"Hey~" He drags out the vowel and can almost _hear_ her heart thump over the line.

"Hey. Just thought I'd call to–"

"–hear my voice? I didn' know ya missed me that much–_oh wait_, I did."

She laughs dispite herself. Hearing her boyfriend–soontobe_husband._she**hopes**–always smooths over whatever nerves are sticking out of her at the moment. He never would tell her where he picked up the British accent; she assumed it was because he'd lived in England for most of his college career, or maybe because his father grew up in Bristol; his mother in London.

"_No,_ I called to tell you that the Agent in Charge got promoted... _Twice_... so he's Director now." She waits for his response.

"Oh! Tha's good news, innit? You've always look'd up ta 'im, right?"

"Yeah, so he's taking us–the crew–out to dinner tonight."

A pause.

"Oh, well 'ave fun, then, eh?" She hears the trademark grin in his words. "Bring me back somethin' good, a'right love?" He winks; she knows and grins.

"Alright. Bye~"

"Be safe, love."

He clicks off and smiles a bit wider.

She clicks off and smiles a little less.

–-

Nanao Ise placidly covers the face of the young girl, disgust\anger\sadness\pity boils in her stomach. She'd known this girl once, once upon a time. She'd laughed and smiled and cried with this girl once, _once upon a time._

Momo had once–_once_–been her friend. She had also once–_once_–been Toushirou Hitsugaya's partner–_first_partner_first_love_first_partner_first_love_.__**last.**_

She peels the gloves from her hands and tosses them into the disposal, running her fingers under the warm water. She closes her eyes, sucks in a breath and punches the nob as far left as it can go. Liquid diamond pours from the faucet, skimming past her hands. She squeezes her eyes tight and lets it burn, numbing her pain, _pain_.

"You know that's not good for you, boiling your hands." Burnt sand sizzles up her nostrils and seers her brain\her lungs\her heart. The smoke wraps itself around her throat; her eyes water and she coughs.

Nanao whips around. Shunsui Kyouraku stands in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"You know that's not good for you, smoking. There's a reason they call it the _cancer-stick_, you know." She wipes her hands on a papertowel and tosses that in the disposal too. He walks toward her, backing her up against the counter, hiptohip_chesttochest_. His hands meet the cold marble to the countertop and he bends his head till their noses touch. He feels the air vibrate between their lips with her breaths, short, short. Dim lights glint in her eyes; dilated.

The cigarette is snuffed under the heal of his John&Crocketts.

"D-Director, I don't th-think..." She reaches for her glasses with shaking fingers, eyes downcast. He catches her hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss into her palm. Her fingers curl, warm against his face; _soft_. He relishes the feeling.

"So you know, about the promotion?" His voice rumbles through her chest, sending brilliant sparks up her spine. _Ohgodhis__**voice**_.**his**_**voice**_. She nods, shivering as he presses another kiss, and then another, another into her hand, the tip of each finger.

"Th-The Captain told me about it... first thing...said that... I should know, if anyone, since I was...uh..._working_ while everyone else got the–the news." Kyouraku grins against her hand before letting go; it falls limp by her side. She's shaking. He lets his fingers brush away the hairs falling from her hairclip, then trail along her soft jawline, her collarbone, shoulders, tracing fire down her arm before latching around her waist and pulling her closer, iron-pressed against him.

"She was a friend of yours... it hurts, doesn't it?" He blows out against her ear, cheeks almost touching. He feels her nod and breathe out, hot air tingling against his neck. She smells of spearmint and cleaning alcohol, _occupational hazard of being in Forensics. _

He's found his new addiction; _screw cigarettes_.

"It hurt for me too, when Lisa went. But you knew that, didn't you? You knew that, and you were there for me... just like I'm here for you now..." He lowers his head and nuzzles into the crook of her neck. She gasps, head tilting back. Kyouraku smirks. Maybe he should really ask her out this time, if he had enough guts.

It's funny, how the Director of the FBI, who worked his way up from an Agent, busting into criminal muses day in and day out, finds the task of asking a girl on a date so daunting. Especially since said Director is known to be the biggest womanizer in New York City.

And the Big Apple is _big_.

She laughs at his words, reaching for her glasses again and actually managing to take them off this time. He lifts his head to meet her eyes for the first time that evening. Sparks don't fly like the books say. Brilliant yellow weaver-birds flap around them, strings of fireworks in their beaks, tying them together, tighter and tighter.

"I wasn't so forward when I–_last _time." He chuckles, eyes scanning her face, recording every miniscule detail. The length of her eyelashes and the shape of her eyebrows. The arch of her nose and the faint colour seeping into her cheeks.

"Have I ever told you how stunningly beautiful you are without your glasses on?" He leans in until their foreheads meet, noses brush, lips less than a breath away.

"No..." She grins, an almost _wicked_ grin. He thinks\believes\_knows_... **he's in love**.

"Well now you know." He presses his mouth to her high cheekbones. She laughs, quietwhisperghost_laugh_. It swirls around his ears like smoke in the air.

"Thank you... Maybe I should get contacts then." He nods approvingly at her voice, teasing. Ohlordohlord–_Nanao? __**Teasing?**_ Kyouraku isn't sure how much more of this he can endure before the worn stitches binding him together snap in half. _Clean_ in half.

"Why don't you come with us tonight... I'm taking everyone out for dinner, on me. A _celebration_ of sorts, for my double-promotion." He holds his breath. –

"I'd love to... and you're allowed to breathe now, you know." He laughs, she laughs.

She laughs and kisses him like she'd never kissed him before.

A dead girl watches them through shuttered eyes.

–-

"Well, let's hear it then." The voice of a dead girl is waiting on the phone. There's only _one_ recording, made at 11:37PM the night before. _So she was alive then..._

Hisagi glances at Hitsugaya one last time before pressing on _play_.

Voices clatter from the speakers. Indistinguishable murmurings static through. The four people lean in around the phone on the table, ears pricked.

Someone screams. _Momo_. Hitsugaya winces at the sound but tries to hide it. Faint thumps, more murmuring. It's a man's voice, deep and smooth. Matsumoto briefly thinks of midnight radio stations. They can't hear what he's saying, but whatever it is, Momo is scared. Her rapid breathing echos in each of their ears.

A loud thump, ...

"NO! NO! DON'T TOUCH ME! S-STOP! PLEASE! STOP!" Momo is sobbing.

It takes everything in Hitsugaya's willpower not to smash the cellphone before him into little tiny metalic pieces that fizz and fuzz around the edges, just like his brain is doing. He settles for lowering his head into his arms and taking deep breaths.

"No... no... please...s...to...p..."

Weak whimpers and moans. Everything falls silent.

"Goodnight, my angel." The voice slithers through the air, foul_foul_ like tabacco smoke. Penetrating, sharp, needles_pins_needles_pins_ shimmer and glimmer.

Hitsugaya lets his fist fall.

Everyone around the table flinches. The table very nearly cracks, they swear it. The phone bounces and skids across, twisting swirling swirling over the top.

Matsumoto stops it with one hand, picks it up and turns it off.

The moment–_silence_–is salt-water above their heads, and they're in way too deep. Everyone except Hitsugaya reaches desperately for the light above, sinking sinking... sinking. Hitsugaya only holds his breath and kicks his feet, swimming deeper; towards darkness.

"Angel, he said 'angel'." Hisagi straightens at Abarai's words and raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, Renji, that's why he tacks them up. He calls it 'clipping their wings'." Matsumoto tucks the cellphone carefully back into the plastic bag and pushes it over to Hisagi. He picks it up, nose scrunching, running his fingers over the plastic-covered keys. _Her_ hands used to be on those.

Hitsugaya still hasn't stopped swimming and they all know it will take _hell_ to pull him back up again. They aren't ready for that, _not yet anyway_.

–-

Matsumoto walks in on untucked shirts and curling toes. She grins to herself before clearing her throat.

"Ah-OH! Rangiku! Uhm..." Nanao scrambles for her glasses while Kyouraku only looks mildly dazzed.

"Look, I know you're all for experimenting in different places, but _really now_? The _Forensics_ Lab? Don't you think it's kinda gross with all the dead bodies and whatnot?" Matsumoto walks down the last two steps and joins the pair in the dimly lit room.

_Only the _one_ body, _Nanao thinks, buttoning up her shirt, cheeks so red Matsumoto would have been worried for a fever if Kyouraku hadn't been in the room; then, it's normal.

"Oh you know they've never bothered me, Ran. Dead bodies, schmead bodies, as long as they don't move by themselves, I could care less." He doesn't bother redoing his buttons but has the decency to zipper his pants and wrap his belt around his middle again. Matsumoto chuckles, eyes drawn automatically to the clinically pale girl lying on a metal bed few feet from them. The tease drains from her voice.

"Hitsugaya... wouldn't come down with me, and I wanted to get a more in depth record... in writing, if possible. I think it'll be a while before he'll come down to take a look." She looks down, fidgets with the band around her middle finger. A promise from a silver-haired fox. It glimmers brightly, flashes of the past project onto the ceiling.

_She_ had once squealed and hugged Matsumoto upon hearing the news of a new boyfriend–_"He works for the Pentagon?"_. She had once bounced around the office all day, almost getting in trouble with her partner for being late to a crime scene; he forgave her when he heard the news.

He didn't know Matsumoto then, not really anyway. Matsumoto had heard of him–obviouslywho_hadn't_–the young genius-detective. _Sherlock Holmes Jr._ And he had heard of her–_all_theguyshad–the legendary FBI special agent with a rack the size of–and that's as far as he ever dared to pay attention.

"Oh that's... understandable..." Nanao adjusts her glasses, mussing down her hair while Kyouraku musses his up. Matsumoto walks passed him, fingers trailing along the metallic walls, over the knobs\doors\rooms\hearts locked up. She tastes iron_blood_iron in the air.

An angel lies on the table. One of many that have been in the exact same place. AngelsAngels, clipped-winged Angels. But this is the first Angel with poison in her veins instead of love, tears on her face instead of smiles, screams in her throat instead of blessings.

_Once_, this angel had beautiful wings, beautiful wings with brilliant white feathers. And when she flew, she shed light upon everyone around her. She gave out smiles. The only thing she got back was a bag of cherry-stained feathers. Hitsugaya still hasn't let them go. He wouldn't and nobody could get him. _He's still swimming, and he doesn't want to come back up._

"She was... one of my best friends." Matsumoto's fingers linger on the edge of the metal bed. It must be uncomfortable to lay here, it must be cold... _did it hurt?_

"Yeah... we know, Ran. We know."

"She was mine too." Nanao rubs Matsumoto's shoulders. Kyouraku pats her head. Matsumoto bites her lip and almost reaches over to touch the Angel's face. Almostalmost... _she doesn't_.

"Here. The... uhm... autopsy report." Nanao puts the beige file on the desk next to the metal bed. Matsumoto can't turn away from the angel on the table, frozen in time with her wings clipped off, branches of ice braided into her hair.

_Did it hurt?_

"Did it–" She chokes, coughs and wishes she were stronger. The fingers on her shoulders are firm but gentle. The smell of cigarettes that linger by calms her, somewhat. Because she knows she still has something to hold on to. So she won't drown... But, there's someone else that she has to save. Someone else that doesn't have anything to hold onto, or so he thinks.

She's got a life to save.

"No. Curare is a paralysis drug, so she didn't feel a thing." Matsumoto nods, grabs the file and turns away. The sudden darkness tries to grab her, but she resists.

"I have to get these up to Hitsugaya, he'll want to... know." She forces a small smile and walks resolutely back up the stairs.

"Well, _that_ really killed the mood."


End file.
